Search

Friday evening found us at the Beantown Pub, rubbing elbows with the broletariat as they loosened their ties and celebrated the end of yet another work week by getting inebriated and yelling over a Sox game. However, for the Nacho Patrol, a cloud of gloom hung over the evening, as we were there to bid adieu to Shanti, the older sister to Skyler, friend to all, and honorary Nacho Patrol member-for-life, who is off to business school in London. The Nacho Patrol coped by drowning our sorrows in Smithwick’s and plate of the Beantown Nachos, with a scoop of chili for good measure.

Presentation: While not exceptionally aesthetically pleasing, these nachos certainly did inspire a good deal of animal attraction; the chaotic and ample servings of toppings made us want to tear into them post haste. Only a few tortilla chips were visible under the blanket of chili. The sour cream, rather than being served on the side in a ramekin, was piled on top of the chili.(7)

Quality of toppings: The chili was nearly entirely ground beef, with very few beans; and while this would normally inspire much excitement in some of our more carnivorous members (Ann Marie), we felt that in the case of nachos, a more even ration of meat to beans is preferable. On top of that, the chili was also oddly sweet, which gave the plate as a whole a strange although not entirely off-putting flavor. The salsa was also markedly sweet. At least two kinds of cheese (we think cheddar and jack, but was dark). The chips ran the gamut from crispy to downright soaked, due to the consistency of the chili. At one point, we contemplated asking for spoons to finish the job. Ample jalapenos, but neither black olives nor guacamole were available. (7)

Distribution of toppings: The Beantown Pub is clearly a kindred spirit when it comes to our theory of cheese distribution. Originally, due to the height of the nachos, we were worried that the chips at the bottom would be utterly devoid of toppings. Well, when we made it through the initial layer of chili and cheese we were pleasantly surprised to find the holy grail of nacho stacking, THE SECONDARY CHEESE LAYER (the mythical tertiary layer has of yet only been theorized to exist). Needless to say, we were delighted. The placement of the sour cream on top was a nice touch, allowing for a much more even distribution than the traditional sour cream on the side. (9)

Price: $8 for a plate of nachos that left three of us full. We call that a success. (8)

Overall: 31/40. While we normally drown our sorrows in liquor and/or SVU marathons, Beantown’s nachos provided a more than ample substitute (although the liquor did help too). A suitable replacement for a best friend and blood relative? Maybe not. But did we mention the cheese distribution?

After this delicious excursion, we vowed to one day return, and rode off into the sunset.